Page 16 of Wild Angel

Nothing shows on my face, but it doesn’t have to. Does Sergio have it all figured out, or just enough to know that he has a stronger hand than me?

It pisses me off that I have to bluff my way through this.

Sergio’s lips twitch into a small smile. “The girl you saved from that man’s bullet.” He tilts his head a little, studying me as if I fascinate him. “Where is she?”

I could try bluffing again, but I’m light-headed and euphoric after torturing Nyx’s would-be killer.

“She’s no one.”

Sergio looks away and laughs. “So why save her?”

“I don’t kill innocent people.”

“You wouldn’t have been the one killing her.” When Sergio looks at me again, suspicion has carved deep lines in his face. “Why was she at the restaurant?”

We stare at each other for a long moment. He doesn’t seem to care that several of his men are within earshot, and that disturbs me. If he’d been warier, I’d have had no issue suspectinghewas the one who hired her.

Now I’m back to not knowing a single fucking thing.

Vito steps forward. “Same reason those other poor fucks were there. La Buena’s tacos areliterallyto die for.”

Sergio’s eyes narrow, and then he throws back his head and laughs. He grabs Vito’s neck and hauls him away from me, walking back to the house. “Eating and fucking. That’s all you care about, isn’t it?”

“I’m the son of Sergio Johan Domingo. What the fuck else should I be interested in?”

The moment is surreal. Father and son chuckling together like best friends, when in reality, Vito is leading away the shark who caught the scent of blood streaming from my open wound.

The wound Nyx rent through my steel heart.

I grit my teeth and follow, needing to keep up appearances, suddenly wondering if I’m even able to.

Has no one mentioned to him that Nyx was dressed as a man? If they did, he couldn’t possibly believe she’s not a person of interest. I start studying the men around Sergio. I know some of their names, but not all.

Maybe some of them know more than either meorSergio.

The thought makes my skin crawl.

* * *

I stareat my plate of breakfast food, but my appetite hasn’t returned since I walked into that barn earlier today. It doesn’t help that the beans on my plate resemble the soft mush that I turned the man’s face into.

So I sit, silent and unmoving, amid laughter and chatter and the scrape of cutlery on crockery. The eighteen-seat dining table is full, gleaming silver chafing dishes stacked down the middle. The air is thick with the smell of bacon and coffee and cigarettes.

Unlike Father, Sergio lets his sicarios and some of the high-level halcones eat at our table with us. Ever since Father was shot, this usually quiet dining hall has transformed into a noisy buffet.

“Coffee?” Vito asks quietly.

I shake my head.

Vito shifts his chair a little closer. “Look, you did what you had to,” he says. “Try not to think about it.”

My eyes flash up, but it’s my uncle I stare at, not Vito. Sergio’s sitting several seats away, the sicarios between us laughing and talking so loudly, I doubt he could hear me.

But I still keep my voice low. “I couldn’t give a fuck about him. I need to get back to her. Find her sisters.”

“Without your father’s help?”

When I look at Vito, he shrinks away from me. “She’s already raised too much suspicion.” I push aside my plate. One of the serving girls waiting patiently by the door comes to take it away and offers me more coffee. I drain the last sip from my cup and turn it over onto the saucer so no one will fucking ask me again.

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